


The Library

by HippyChick1964



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Ianto Jones - Freeform, Multi, Other, Torchwood - Freeform, jack harkness - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 19:11:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5882272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HippyChick1964/pseuds/HippyChick1964
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cherubs are coming through the rift and Ianto wants to have children.  Enough said?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Library

Chapter  1

“It’s touching Jack but could I have my fingers back now?”

Jack Harkness gave his partner an unearned exacerbated expression.  “You know how I feel about airplanes,” he whispered.

“Really?” Ianto Jones chuckled while trying to rub life back into his hand.  “You stand on the ledges of 20 story buildings for fun and you’re afraid of flying in airplanes?”  He stood up, trying to encourage Jack to depart. 

“Anything can happen on these things,” said Jack.  “I’d feel better if I was the one piloting this sardine can.”

“Oh yeah, that’ll work,” Ianto replied.  “If you flew like you drive the entire aviation system would be in crisis.”

Jack ignored him and instead gave the stewardess a quick, bright smile, “You must be the reason they used to call it the ‘friendly skies’”.

Ianto rolled his eyes and shoved a carry-on bag into Jack unexpected arms, “Aliyah and Sarah are waiting for us.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re too focused?”

“Yes, you, just before I told you to duck.”

Jack chuckled as his partner’s comment was more than a little true.

The two men left the plane and Jack moved quickly ahead, deftly moving them through JFK Airport to the arrival area, as he had been to New York many times.  This was Ianto’s first visit and although this was ostensibly on Torchwood business, he had hoped to get in at least some sightseeing and, of course, a Broadway show.   Rabbi Aliyah Teelbalum, the head of Torchwood Jerusalem and longtime friend of Jack’s from his Time Agency days had called asking for assistance with a particularly tough case.  Initially, Jack was going to send Gwen but then there was a report from Constable Andy Davidson of Weevil attacks in a prominent area of Cardiff – a matter that needed “delicate handling” according to Sergeant Swanson.   Jack tried to delay things until Gwen would be done but things quickly got out of hand (Weevils shagging or something in Lady Tromphfield’s Jacuzzi) and Aliyah insisted help come soon.  Jack, crying some fabricated fear that Sarah, Aliyah’s wife, is out to kill him, insisted that Ianto come with him. With the others gone so recently, Ianto realized maybe Jack would be lonely. He hadn’t counted on Jack needing babysitter. 

It was a late Friday afternoon in late March, so the airport was quite busy with New York natives escaping and tourists coming in.  Sarah was perched against the car like a starlet’s bodyguard outside of the third club of the night.  Her dishwater blonde hair tied in a federal agent’s ponytail with matching attire, Sarah spied Jack and Ianto immediately coming out of the terminal.  She knocked once on the car hood.  Aliyah Teelbaum got out of the car’s passenger side like someone about to walk the red carpet.  If she knew how beautiful she was, she didn’t show it.  She pulled off hippy chic well in her dreadlocks and skin like a finished Belgian milk chocolate.  Her serious but humble demeanor, as expected from any good clergyperson, kept those with adolescent libidos at bay.  For those whose pursuit was based on conquest, her brains frightened them off briskly.

“Jack!  Ianto!” Aliyah greeted each man in the European style.  Sarah gave Ianto a nod while all Jack got was a blank stare as she stored the men’s luggage in the spacious trunk.

“Good to see you too, Sarah,” Jack said.  The blonde Amazon ignored him, finished her duties succinctly, and got in the car.  “Still not talking, eh?”  Sarah offered a low growl.

“Not to you, Jack,” Aliyah laughed.  “How was your flight?”

Ianto started to complain but Jack interrupted, “Long and the in-flight movie was atrocious.”  Ianto simply rubbed his hand some more.

Aliyah was aware of Jack’s phobia, so as Jack got into the car, she discreetly said to Ianto, “Thanks for coming.  You know he wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t come.”  The young Welshman lit up at the recognition.  “Wait ‘til you see the hotel I booked for you and it will be well-worth all the trouble.”

Aliyah had reservations for her Torchwood Cardiff friends at The Library, a stylish, relatively new hotel about an hour from the airport. “Each of the ten guestroom floors are dedicated to one of the ten major categories of the Dewey Decimal System - Social Sciences, Literature, Languages, History, Math & Science, General Knowledge, Technology, Philosophy, the Arts and Religion,” Aliyah explained during the drive.  “Sarah and I have stayed there a few times.  The whole place feels more like a private club than a Manhattan hotel,” she turned around in her seat to give Ianto the brochure.  “Each of the rooms is individually adorned with art and a collection of books that relate to the room's unique theme.  I know how you boys need your space so I got you a suite.”

“Based on what theme?” asked Jack.

“11th floor, Philosophy of Love.  It was curated by Dr. Ruth Westheimer.”

“Ah, I taught that woman everything she knows.”  There was a collective sigh in the car.  “No, really!”

Aliyah ignored Jack and continued, “You have the Erotic Literature Room because it has a terrace and we know how much Jack likes to stand around naked outside  . . .”

“And with so much for all to enjoy!”

“. . . . without getting anyone arrested.”

“Hay!” protested Jack.

“Anyway, the two of you will be on your own tonight though.  I am the guest rabbi for Friday services at Temple Emanu-El on 65th Street.   But we are staying at Kyla’s, so tomorrow . . .” said Aliyah before being cut off.

“Kyla?  Kyla!” Jack barked.

“Yes, Jack, Kyla – Kyla Reishold,” Aliyah responded back with equal vigor, “though now she goes by Strossman.”

“Yeah,” Jack’s volume dropped, “I’m sure things have changed.”  He turned and stared out the window.

The rest of the ride was filled with Jack’s quiet hostility and Aliyah’s successful job of ignoring his pouting.  When they arrived at the hotel, Jack simply got out of the car and entered the building, saying nothing to anyone.  Aliyah got out with Ianto and, in that nod only the clergy and one’s mother can give, assured him that things would be fine.  He acknowledged the communiqué, trusting from past experience with the learned woman that she knew what she was doing.   He knew Jack’s moods often change like an ADD kid off his meds.  Plus, Jack’s reaction garnered more curiosity than fear as he only acted in this harsh, sharp manner when he was hiding something, typically something from his past.  And Ianto had long ago learned that there were times to ask Jack about his past and times when it was best to just let things unfold – this seemed like a “let things unfold” time.

“This and we haven’t even gotten to the alien stuff yet,” thought Ianto has he instructed the bellhop regarding their bags and then hurried after Jack.

*********

Chapter 2

He entered the 1st floor hotel lobby and instantly wondered if he could convince Jack to relocate Torchwood to New York. The space lived up to its name – hardwood paneling and flooring, wide, spacious leather seating, fireplaces and flush bookshelves tastefully everywhere.  He spied an elegant restaurant to the left of the front desk.  The concierge however told them that the hotel had two other eateries, one rooftop bar and a lounge area on the 2nd floor that hosted a European continental breakfast in the morning then a wine and cheese reception in the early evening. Although the restaurant and bar were noisy, he was assured that the lounge was a spacious reading area “in the style of a gentleman’s club”. “How long are we here?” he asked Jack.

Jack was so busy pouting he didn’t even notice the cute, blonde bellhop, “What?” he snapped back.

Ianto was going to repeat the question but decided he didn’t want Jack to ruin the mood.  Plus, the bellhop had just opened the door to the room. 

Honestly, Ianto was not initially thrilled with the idea of being in a room filled with nothing but erotic literature – not something he was particularly interested in.  However, Aliyah, as usual, was so psychic you could trust her to pick out your cologne.  With this room, she had topped herself.  It had the typical amenities found in most four star hotels - flat panel television, mini bar stocked with an array of the best liquors, king size bed with a down blanket covering 800 count Egyptian cotton linens and wireless Internet. But it was the stocked Brazilian walnut bookcases throughout the room that caught Ianto’s breathe.  The books ranged from the tawdry lady’s romance novel to Jane Austin, the various versions of the Joy of Sex to scholarly works, instructional guides to Robert Crumb comics, and a video library with everything from the raunchiest bondage to When Harry Met Sally.  The lighting was strategically placed for maximum reading relaxation.  Even the terrace was relaxing, with a view down 41st Street toward the New York Public Library, employing some kind of sound reduction system controlling how much street noise you allowed in your rendition paradise.

Jack paid no attention.  He absentmindedly tipped the bellhop, who looked disappointed that the $20 bill in his palm didn’t have a cell phone number on it.  Ianto helped Jack out of his coat then proceeded to unpack, clothes then Torchwood equipment.  Meanwhile, Jack plopped himself on the bed, still saying nothing.  Ianto opened one drawer and instead of finding a Gideon New Testament, he found a copy of the Torah with two set of tickets, one to Hair at the Al Hirschfield Theatre and another set for Nathan Lane and Bill Irwin in Waiting for Godot.  “Aliyah must have something up her sleeve,” thought Ianto.  “She knows Jack hates Beckett and the musicals that don’t star him.”

“What are you looking at?” asked Jack.

“Nothing,” Ianto returned the tickets to the drawer and started setting up the computers. “I’m assuming whatever is bothering you, you don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Good guess.”

Jack was talking, which was always a sign he was coming out of whatever funk he was in.  Ianto got the computers started and initiated the automatic message Tosh had programmed long ago to signal that the traveling Torchwood staff were “down and safe”.  He couldn’t help thinking of her every time he access software he knew she created.  She never knew how much she was appreciated and now missed.  Ianto sighed.  Right now he had to tend to the living.

Ianto removed his suit jacket carefully placing it over the desk chair, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt to his chest.  After removing his shoes, he started to walk to the bed but stopped himself – chapped lips were highly imprudent so he applied lip balm.  Jack was oblivious to all this as he had settled further into the bed, closing his eyes and interlacing his fingers behind his head.  If he had started to smile, maybe Ianto would have paused and returned to setting up but Jack was still frowning and Ianto was not having it.

Ianto climbed into the bed and just as deftly, undid Jack’s pants.  “Ianto,” grumbled Jack, “really now is not the time.”

“Ah, huh,” Ianto responded without missing a beat.  He removed Jack’s cock through the slit in his trousers, looking up briefly, noting Jack had not moved but a slight smile was slowly growing.  “The lady does protest too much,” he thought while bending over the already hardening member.

*************

Chapter 3

Later, as Jack lay under the covers quietly snoring Ianto tended to the computer communiqués.  Feeling a bit jet lagged, he wanted to sleep too but he knew once Jack awoke, he would not get a chance.  Gwen was fine but there still were Weevils to round up.   The rift was quiet though, Rhys was keeping an eye on the readings from their apartment – something else Tosh set up.  He then decided to review Aliyah’s initial reports.  Her email brief but informative:

_Jack –_

_I have a case I would appreciate you taking a look at.  Seems a statue of a baby is coming to life.  Run of the mill, right?  Not this one.  This one’s got wings and is trying to fly (where to we don’t quite know).  It has gotten quite hostile at our attempts to contain it, having broken through three different cages and one standard force field.  I have resorted to a Tilanian box but I am uncertain how long this one will last.  More details when you arrive.  See the attachment for travel itinerary._

_Give my best to Gwen and Rhys!_

_Aliyah_  

“One, Aliyah knew Jack was not to going to readily fly alone,” Ianto thought. “Two, she knew Rhys would be reluctant to let his new bride go off to New York with Jack Harkness. Three, she knew I was the only person Jack would allow to see him vomit.  And four, Aliyah must suspect Jack has some direct knowledge about this case otherwise she simply would have put her Torchwood Jerusalem team on it.”  And there was this Kyla Reishold or Strossman . . . . 

Ianto ran a search of the Torchwood HR archives, going back to the 1930s but found no reference to a Kyla.  He knew all Jack’s significant relationships from previous searches but this name was not familiar.   She could have been a passing fancy but that would not have caused such a reaction out of Jack (more likely she would have that reaction upon hearing his name; Ianto had seen more than a few of Jack’s ex’s slap the lights out of him – typically for good reasons).  No, he will have to wait for the cards to fall on the table or ask Aliyah.  Or he could . . . .

“Whatcha doing?” asked a sleepy sounding Jack Harkness.

Ianto nonchalantly closed the computer, “I was checking in with Gwen.”  He stood and started walking toward the bed giving a yawn as a further distraction, “Seems Weevils like hot tubs.”

“Ah yeah?” He sat up, “So, you comin’ to bed?”

“Sure.”  Ianto removed his shirt and pants.  He had been working out and monitoring his diet lately, conscious of how Jack seemed to respond well to all types of curves.  His efforts were paying off and as he turned his back to put his cufflinks on the nightstand, Ianto heard that familiar slight groan from his lover. “If you were anyone else, I’d think you’d be tired and I’m not talking about jet lag.”

“But I’m not like anyone else, now am I?”

Ianto turned in the bed and faced him, “No, Jack Harkness, that you certainly are not.”  They kissed deeply and later that night likely added a chapter to at least one of The Library’s romance novels.

*********    

Aliyah and Sarah relaxed on the couch of Amy Ehrlich’s office in Temple Emanu-El. Associate Rabbi Ehrlich was away at a conference with her senior, Rabbi David Posner, and, knowing she was coming to New York, Amy asked the always popular Aliyah to offer a _d’var Torah_ , a reflection or commentary on the week’s bible portion. Aliyah loved speaking here.  Regarded as one of the most majestic synagogues in the world, Emanu-El exterior looks like many basilica-style European cathedrals with an art deco interior popular during the building’s construction in 1929.  Standing at the bimah, stage left of the ark containing the “Bloomingdale Crowns” (richly decorated hand crafted biblical scrolls given to the congregation in 1891 by the department store magnate), below the colorful voices in the choir loft and rich tones of the largest synagogue organ in the world then surrounded by Moorish mosaics shaping expansive, Byzantine arches, Emanu-el stately structure always reminded Aliyah of one’s insignificance in the G-d’s universe. That sense of humility kept her grounded, even while negotiating secret intergalactic treaties and helping avoid potential nuclear war in the Holy Land.  

Amy and Aliyah had been friends for many years.  Amy had introduced Aliyah to her last partner, Abram, and officiated at his funeral a few days after 9-11.  Like most of the prominent and influential in the worldwide Jewish community, Amy knew of Aliyah’s origins as immortal from the _Jershun Prime_ , a planet settled by Jews when its original inhabitants visited the Egyptians at the time of Moses (an event consciously hidden from the histories of both peoples). But Amy was one of the few who Aliyah confided in – the occasional bouts of homesickness, self-doubt and constant exhaustion.  Amy knew her friend well which is why there was bottle of Glenlivet and two glasses carefully tucked in the lower right hand drawer of Amy’s office desk with a note on it that said, “Share some with Sarah, will ya!”

Aliyah and Sarah retired to Amy’s office shortly after the last congregate left the evening’s _oneg_ , the after service reception. Unlike the wealth and old money of other parts of the synagogue, Amy’s office looked more like a English gentlemen’s club wall-to-wall books, manuscripts, rows of DVDs covering lectures from across the Jewish intelligentsia, CDs of various Jewish music from traditional cantorial fair to New York’s latest orthodox hip-hop. Amy’s computer was usually buried underneath stacks of paper but she had been kind enough to pile everything on one corner to allow some room.

“Ah, yeah, Amy,” sighed a smile Aliyah, “thoughtful as usual.”  As invigorating as giving a Friday night sermon was, jet-lag and worry were catching up with Aliyah.

Aliyah leaned back in the desk chair and poured two shots from the scotch bottle then handed one glass to Sarah who was seated in the chair across from her.  Sarah took her glass while cocking her head slightly to the side as if to ask, “What’s up?”

“I don’t know, honey,” Aliyah said.  “Jack and Kiya are a volatile mix.”  She drained her glass, “I fear I maybe opening a wound I can’t stitch close.”

Sarah rolled her eyes and in a rare moment, decided to speak, “Ianto is here.”  She too drank her shot, “He will keep ‘Mr. Wonderful’ . . . grounded.”

“I fear Ianto may not be ready for the task of soothing the wounded heart of one Jack Harkness.” 

Sarah raised an eyebrow, “A heart?  I didn’t think there was room for one with all that ego.”

“You underestimate Jack,” Aliyah poured another shot and walked over to the small office refrigerator and retrieved two bottled waters, “His heart is larger and more welcoming than most, which is why he keeps it well-hidden - behind is dick.”  Sarah giggled at this and nearly missed the bottle Aliyah tossed her.  “Anyway, where Jack is weakened, Ianto keeps proving to have subtle strength – “the nobleman and his valet”, an ancient, potent pairing.”  Aliyah took a large gulp from her bottle before returning to her scotch and the comfy desk chair, “Why this young man has chosen such a burden as to love an immortal is still not clear but I sense some sort of destiny in this for them both.  I can only hope the outcome will be worthwhile.”  She took another swallow of water and looked at the door, “However, now other challenges await us all.”

Sarah acknowledged her partner’s telepathic anticipation and turned to the door before the knock came.

****************

Chapter Four

Kyla Reishold shared Aliyah’s ancestry and Sarah’s stoic beauty.  She entered the room with an empress’ command – fierce emerald eyes, creamy ivory skin, and brazen red hair that cascades like waves down her back. Many admire her rubenesque features but few have ever been allowed to drink from the well.  Kyla is also an immortal and was once a member of Aliyah’s Time Agent team. Since she had settled on Earth she was now working as a curator with the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  Today, this minute, she is the picture of a totally frazzled librarian, in a rush, eyes wild with hair flying and carrying a baby. It was the latter that shocked Aliyah.

“Do you need help with that?” asked Aliyah. 

“Well,” Kyla stated, “This is why I contacted you.”  Sarah leaped up and took the bundle from a grateful and much relieved Kyla.  She shook her arms out like a tennis player after a hard round.  “Thank you.  I carried it all the way from the Museum.”  She rubbed her biceps, “How do women do it?”

“How can a gal not?” Sarah said.  She cooed at the child and gently rubbed its cheek, suddenly in touch with her inner nursemaid. Aliyah smiled – how she liked this side of Sarah – but then returned to the business at hand, “Decided to become a foster parent, eh?”

The exacerbated Kyla entered the room and dropped the diaper bag on the couch next to Sarah, like a grateful parent to a babysitter.  Sarah smiled widely and dumping the contents to rummage through for its treasures.  Kyla, in the meantime, headed straight for the open bottle of Glenlevit.   She poured and downed a shot then looked at Aliyah directly, “Do I look the kind to you?  I have plenty of nieces and nephews,” she poured another glass, “Most of whom claim child abuse when forced to stay with me for too long.”  She downed the second shot and seemed to look for the third but Aliyah got a hold of the bottle for she recalled a similar number three once with her friend Jack Harkness. “But I get to choose which one I have to deal with and I do get to send it home at the end of the day.”  She took the water bottle Aliyah offered, opened it and down it like the scotch, “This is something completely different.”

“I’ll need all the details.”

“You?”  Kyla exclaimed.  “You just need to get me the original owner.”  Aliyah poured the next shot and gave it to Kyla.  “You did get ‘em, didn’t you?  You said you knew who it was.” 

Aliyah waited for her to down the shot, “Yeah.”

“Well, when do I get with ‘em ‘cuz this transformation has to stop and originator probably has the answers or at least can take this, his . . . her child back where it came from, “ finally Kyla drank that shot. 

“Yeah,” Aliyah whispered.  Sarah looked at her and smirked knowingly.

Kyla collapsed on the couched not caring that she was wrinkling her Ann Klein suit.  She had just come from the museum and it was causal Friday at work.  She leaned back near Sarah and the baby.  She looked over at the two of them, “It’s a cute kid . . . quite sweet at times actually.”  She caressed the child’s cheek and forehead, smiling as if she wished she couldn’t, “Something’s . . . well, ‘off . . . but that doesn’t mean the kid doesn’t deserve the best, right?”  She drank a gulp of water, “So, you found the owner?”

“Yeah, “Aliyah responded with more reserve than was characteristic.  Sarah rolled her eyes.

Kyla too recognized obfuscating, “What?  Was Hitler the statue’s original owner?” 

“No.”

“Who then?”

Aliyah looked at her intently with apologetic eyes.  Kyla gave a quizzical look but soon realization pasted over her features, “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

*************

Ianto woke up late Saturday morning, taking the edge off the jet lag.  If they were at his flat or the hub, he would find Jack standing naked on the roof, looking thoughtfully off in the distance.  Here he was naked but sitting on the terrace, one leg causally dangling over a lounge chair.   Ianto took this opportunity to peek over the covers.  “Damn,” he said to himself, wondering how he got so lucky.

But business was pressing so Ianto got out of the bed and put on one of the complimentary cashmere bathrobes. He brought the other to Jack.  As he draped it over the shoulders, Jack looked up and smiled gratefully. Another custom – they rarely talked in the morning, relying instead on silent signals and indicators. Cold air barely registered with Jack and the robe meant it was time to shower and get dressed. While he did so, Ianto laid out their clothes on the bed, giving everything a last minute inspection for the wayward wrinkle or missing button (Jack was always loosing buttons!). After Jack finished in the bath, Ianto entered.  Somehow Jack always fussed at dressing long enough or Ianto was efficiently quick with his such that Ianto was always ready with Jack’s great coat when it was time to leave.

Aliyah had sent a note asking to meet for lunch at the Madison & Vine Restaurant on the hotel’s first floor.  Jack’s silence grew heavy as they rode the elevator. Ianto didn’t know what to anticipate but when he laid eyes on Kyla he reckoned the story was going to be a whopper.

Kyla, Aliyah, and Sarah were sitting near the window surrounded by the weekend lunch crowd – a typical mix of trendy couples and local models hiding their food obsessions behind afternoon martinis.  Jack weaved around the tables like a shark eyeing prey. “Harkness!” Kyla exclaimed just before giving Aliyah an incredulous look. “How long has it been?” She stood to shake his hand.

Jack said nothing.  Ignoring her greeting, he pulled out a chair, turned it around and sat, wrapping his long legs around it.  Even Ianto, nearly breathless when he caught up, was surprised.  He had seen Jack be harsh, even mean but this was something different.  As if to make up for his friend’s rudeness, he offered his own hand instead, “Hello, Ianto Jones.”

“Hello, Mr. Jones,” Kyla said sweetly, turning away from Jack, “Kyla Reishold but please, call me Kyla.”

He nodded, “Ianto.”  He peered over to look at the mommy bag sitting on the table nearby. “Louis Vuitton?”

“Why yes!” she beamed.  Pointing at his suit, “And, could I be wrong . . . H. Huntsman?”

“Oh, you’re good!”  Ianto liked her already even if Jack didn’t, “But while I’m here, I’m hoping to peek into Fioravanti’s.”

“Okay, ladies!” interrupted Jack.  “Can someone tell me why I’m here?”

The two fashionistas shrugged and took their seats.  Aliyah took over, “Jack, I thought maybe you could help with this.”  Sarah raised the baby from her lap.

“Well, should I say congratulations to one of you?” Jack said sarcastically.

“Kyla.”

“Really?  Well, it’s certainly not mine,” he looked directly at her.  “Why I haven’t seen you in . . .mmm, 80 years?”

“89 years and seven months but who’s counting?”  She tried a slight, consolatory smile hoping to get Jack to concede.

It wasn’t working, “Ah, how nice of you to pay attention.”  He took a sip of water, “It’s still not my child.”

“No, it was your statue, Jack,” Aliyah said deciding to take over the situation.  

“I work for the Metropolitan now, curator of the museum’s Romantic Collection “Kyla started.  “We were doing a special exhibition of Romantic painters who had the most influence on the growing Impressionism movement.  I put out the word that I was looking for works by the British artist, Joseph Mallord William Turner – to add to the one piece, The Whale Ship, we already have.”  The waiter came to take orders.  Everyone but Jack ask for coffee.  “I got an email from the lawyer representing a private owner of one of the most famous Turner works, Pope's Villa At Twickenham.  He said it was available for loan.”

“Ah, yes, I remember reading about it.  It was a scandal for the British art world, indeed.”  Everyone gave Ianto a strange look, “I do more than get coffee, take care of Jack, and chase aliens you know.”  Everyone nodded in agreement, even the sullen Jack Harkness, so Ianto continued, “The painting sold for £5 million to fund the upkeep of Sudeley Castle's crumbling estate where it had been housed for 160 years,” with the realization slowly creeping over him, Ianto turned and looked at Jack as he finished, “The scandal came from the fact that the painting, even after bids from several UK museums, went to a mysterious American bidder.”  He gave Jack a hurt expression.

“I bought it and passed it on before I met you!” Jack said to end his partner’s pouting.  “The London Museum would have lost it to the Italians if I hadn’t intervened.  It belongs to Torchwood now.  One of the attorneys handles it.”  Jack turned to Aliyah, “Is that how you tracked it to me?”

“All of Torchwood uses the same law firm and when I heard that it was bought by an American, it was a simple assumption.”

The baby cooed and Sarah whispered to it.  “What does that have to do with the baby?”  Jack looked at it, “By the way, does it have a name or at least a gender?”

“Well,” Kyla said, “not yet.”

“Huh?” He shook his head, “Wait, where did this kid come from?”

“It came with the painting.”

“Excuse me?”

“When the painting came in the standard cargo box, wrapped next to it was a statue of a solid gold cherub,” Kyla continued.  “I thought there was some sort of mistake and contacted the attorney.  He informed me that the box had not been opened since the painting had been purchased and checked for authenticity. He knew nothing about any statue.  I put it aside, figuring I would turn it into a side investigation once this exhibition was over.”  She took a sip of her coffee, “Then one day I came into my office and heard a strange sound from where I left the statue.  I looked at it and realized what was once a solid gold cherub was now a four month old baby.”

Ianto leaned over to take a closer look at the baby.  It was nicely swaddled and looked happy and healthy.  “It looks normal.”

“Can we go up to your room?” asked Kyla.

“Do you think that’s wise?” answered Jack, immediately surely again.  “The last time I did that things didn’t turn out so well.”

Kyla gave an exasperated sigh and started to retaliate but Aliyah intervened.   She stood and told the waiter to send a cold sandwich tray to the room.  “We’ll go to our room.”  Everyone but Jack stood up, “I think you need to see this, Jack.” 

Everyone started to follow Aliyah.  Jack lagged behind like a petulant child ordered to detention.  “Why am I certain I’m going to regret this?”

*******

Chapter Five

The junior suite of the 5th floor Astronomy Room was Sarah’s favorite.  She liked the bright lighting and the king size bed was perfect.  Lounging on the chaise, she liked imagining Aliyah’s adventures on various planets and star systems just as much as she liked looking at the picture books and hearing Aliyah correct the latest theories in physics or interplanetary travel.  Sarah had traveled with Aliyah once to Jershun Prime but got such a bad case of space sickness, she had not dared venture far from the Earth’s surface again. Plus, with Aliyah’s workload, chasing bad aliens as the head of Torchwood Jerusalem and working with the good ones as this planet’s representative to the galaxy, someone had to run the house, especially with an active teenage girl around. 

When the group got to the room, Sarah laid the baby on the bed and sat protectively nearby, exchanging smiles with the infant all the while.  The child had an especially angelic face that one would swear glowed slightly, particularly when it giggled.  This reaction made the normally phlegmatic Sarah animated. Aliyah observed the two and sighed blissfully.  Sarah would never say anything – she rarely did anyway – but Aliyah knew her girlfriend wanted to have a child of her own.  “Ah yes,” thought Aliyah, “another reason I called Jack here.”

“So what’s so special about this baby?” Jack asked, interrupting Aliyah’s musings.

Sarah gave Jack a dirty look then reluctantly but gently unwrapped the baby from the firm swaddling.  The tiny horns were the first thing one noticed.  But as she loosened the receiving blanket further, the child became more animated and the glow more prominent.  The baby shivered in response to the sudden cool air but before Sarah could shift the blanket, the child’s wings expanded like an eagle in a John Denver song and soon it was flying about the room, giggling all the way. 

A freaked out Jack Harkness drew his Webley and took aim.  He would have shot the child but two things happened – the quick-witted Kyla knocked it out of his hand and suddenly Sarah sprang up shouting, “Erela!  Come down now.” Then the air darkened with ominous, nimbus clouds and the once happy, angelic baby’s face turned a flaming red as the baby Erela began spiting fiery sparks at Jack.

The baby stopped spitting and looked apologetically at Sarah.  It turned back to Jack and gave a nasty howl but then returned to its white, dove color and flew into Sarah’s open arms.  “Don’t worry about him,” Sarah whispered to it, “He’s not going to do anything to you.”  She looked at him fiercely then said in a threatening tone, “Not while I’m around.”  The baby smiled again, regaining its glow and tucked it’s wings tightly against its back while nestling back into Sarah’s arms.

“Erela?” asked Kyla

“It means ‘angel’ in Hebrew, “shrugged  Aliyah.

“What the hell is that?” demanded Jack.

Ianto, quiescent throughout, walked over to Sarah and the baby, motioned for permission to touch the child and upon receiving it, move the diaper to see inside.  Nodding his head, he smiled, tickled the child’s cheek and pronounced, “It’s a cherub.”

“A what?”

“A cherub,” repeated Ianto.  “A high ranking angel.”  He pulled out his PDA and accessed an Internet resource.  “They are referenced both in the Old and New Testaments however they are mentioned in pre-biblical societies.” He paused a moment, weighing how much information to offer (considering Jack’s historic impatience) while still increasing his own knowledgebase. “Although they are not much a part of modern Judaism, Catholicism sees them as actual beings who work in Divine service.  However, Protestant scholars view them as symbolic representations of abstract ideas.”

“There is nothing abstract about that…I mean, Erela,” said Kyla

“Fine, that doesn’t explain what it is doing in New York, hardly a bastion of holiness, “ quipped Jack.

“We were hoping you could answer that question,” said Kyla.  “After all, it was packed in the same crate as that painting you purchased.”

“I figured you knew it was coming to the Museum and was doing it as one of your typical pranks,” added Aliyah.

“I never saw any of it,” Jack took to sitting on the bed and staring at the child.  Sarah and baby moved away some but Jack did not budge.  “I made the purchase on behalf of Torchwood and all I was concerned about was the painting,” he continued.  “I kinda liked it and hoped that once I got the Hub in some decent shape, I’d hang it somewhere.”  He looked regretfully at Ianto, “I just never got around to it.”

“Who packed the crate?” asked Ianto, clearly irritated - to not review overseas packaging was the height of incompetence.

“I have no idea,” answered Jack.  “I do recall getting an email from Higgins, the attorney at Home Office who handles Torchwood legal matters, but I probably just agreed and forgot about it.”

Ianto started punching figures in his PDA to access Jack’s emails.  He had broken Jack’s password many times with the help of Toshiko, who when she died, left a simple program to help Ianto do so in a future without her – another way he was indebted to her.  He quickly located both the attorney’s original email and Jack’s simple “okay” response to loaning the painting to the Metropolitan Museum.  “This is going to take some time.”

“Fine, learn what you can, Ianto,” commanded Jack.  “Meanwhile, we need to keep this kid under raps until we know what we are dealing with.”  He leaned in and got a closer look.  At first the child looked cautiously at the man who only moments ago tried to kill it.  But Jack’s dancing blue eyes and broad smile won the moment and the child gave a tentative smile.  “Sarah seems to have things under control here for now.”  Sarah rolled her eyes.

“Great, well I have to get back to my office anyway,” said a relieved Kyla.  “These exhibitions don’t run themselves.”  She put the expensive diaper bag next to Sarah, who gladly started rummaging through it and found a rather loud rattle.  “Call me, Ianto, when you find something, eh?” 

She turned to leave only to have Jack stand and block her exit.  “Not so fast.  I still have some questions for you,” he stated. 

She shrugged, walked around him and out the door.  Jack grimaced at being so easily disobeyed, turned on his heel and went after her.

Aliyah whispered a hopeful prayer as she watched them leave and turned to her other project.

********

Ianto kept tapping at his PDA, clearly missing the fact that Jack had left without a word.  “Brilliant,” he said sarcastically.  “I’ll get on this then.”

Aliyah waited 5 heartbeats, watching Ianto about to turn leave only then to realize he had questions left unanswered.  She smiled as his curiosity turned into courage and he turned back to her, “I assume the story with those two involves Jack not getting what he wanted?”

She raised her eyebrow with a slight smirk, “You really think Jack would be this upset over some ordinary feminine rejection?”

Ianto thought for a moment then said, “You’re kidding me!”

Aliyah just nodded knowingly.  “You’ll have to get the details yourself for I have never been privy.”

Ianto sighed heavily, “Sometimes I’m not sure if that man is my lover or a research project.”

“Well, at least when you’re through, yours will be more interesting dissertations than most that come through uni.”

“I suppose,” he turned to leave.  “Right, I’ll leave it to you then.”

“I’ll follow you out,” Aliyah said cryptically however Sarah hardly noticed.

*******

Ianto wasn’t back in the room long before Jack returned, panting and clearly irritated.  “Ditched you, did she?”

“She knows these streets better than I do.”

Ianto nonchalantly returned to his computer research.  Jack, sensing his partner’s irritation, took off his great coat and walked over to the desk where Ianto was parked.  Placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, he asked, “Got anything?”

“Nothing suspicious about the shipping, either at transport or arrival.  I haven’t heard back from Higgins yet, but I’m not certain he would know much.  As it is it was all probably handled by an assistant.  I looked into the history of the painting and the artist but nothing’s come up.”  Then with a face that would have rivaled any poker player, he added, “And Aliyah has asked me to be Sarah’s sperm donor.”

“So, are we going to do a turkey baster with a Playboy magazine or a hot night in The Library?”

Ianto handed Jack an advertisement over his shoulder. “’One Leg Up New York’, eh?  Palagia’s still around.  I haven’t seen her in years!”  If Ianto was surprised at Jack’s familiarity, he didn’t show it but kept on typing. “She throws the best swinger’s parties in New York.  The waiting list for membership is at least year long – she personally screens everyone.  If I remember her words correctly, ‘Through a careful process of selection, we have successfully been able to congregate elegant, friendly and intelligent people with a common interest - to explore and indulge their erotic pleasures in a shared space.’  Many a movie star, athlete and literary giant has indulged in the kinky at one of her parties.  Which soiree are we going to?”

“Huh?”

“She features three types of events – Al a carte which are simple meet-n-greets, nothing happening there besides talk.  Then there are Take Outs . . . lots of teasing, topless tongue action but no live playing.”  Jack reached over him and snagged a chocolate kiss from the bowl, “The dancers and acrobats are fabulous though.”

“Aliyah said something about an Eat In.”

“Damn, those are the best!  Aliyah must have pulled some strings – an Eat In . . . wow!  They’re usually at some loft apartment in Manhattan where anything goes and does. ” Jack kissed Ianto on the top of his head, “Baby, you are about to have the most unique experience of your life!”

“I thought I’d already had that.”

Jack squeezed Ianto’s shoulders ineffably, “Are you sure you want to be a father?”

Ianto thought for a moment, “When I was with Lisa, it’s all I thought about.”  He sighed slightly, “You didn’t know her, Jack, you know, before.  She would have made a lovely mum.”  He looked out the window, “But now, I don’t know what my future will be, working for Torchwood.  It would be nice to have a bit of me live on.”  He thought further then looked over his shoulder at Jack and asked, “You . . . you wouldn’t mind?”

“I’ve had the chance at fatherhood several times over and I can say there is nothing like it.  I can’t see denying you that joy.”  Jack moved in front of Ianto and cupped his lover’s face in his hand, “I don’t know where this is going between us but I can guarantee you that I can’t give you that.”  He bent down and kissed those awaiting lips. “Now, I’ve got to get ready!  This is a real treat.”

Jack pranced off, likely to shave his balls.  But Ianto wasn’t done yet, “And what makes you think you’re invited?”

Jack turned around and pouted.  Ianto chuckled quietly.  

*******

Chapter Six

Jack loved showers – feeling water streaming down and around in twisted body contours or dripping from tips and leaving inviting trails as one walked away.  He liked hot showers the best – the hotter the better.  His sweat and pounding sensation of the water made him wish he could taste himself.  He considered calling Ianto to join him in his bathroom antics but thought better of it.  Despite rumors to the contrary, he was a considerate lover and never lay with one with another on his mind. 

He leaned over to the front of the shower and adjusted the water resistant CD player, clicking through a set of tunes Ianto put together for him some months ago.  Jack was grateful to find Jellyroll Morton’s “Sidewalk Blues”.  He leaned back against the tiled tube wall, letting the water hit strategically against his midsection. The heat made his newly shaven balls sting in the most delightful way.  The music brought him back to when he met her.

_It was 1926 and I was prowling the streets of Harlem, New York.  It was a good place if one was looking for a good time and I am always creating a good time.  That night, I was taking a break from a Torchwood assignment.  Waiting to meet a contact in the next day or two, I have time to taste the different flavors of this locale, known for its various diversities. I was walking down 135 th Street, just past the YMCA, paying attention to the sounds and smells. Rhythmic beats, steady laughter, and marijuana meant a rent party, where people paid a quarter to grind, smoke and drink all night to some of the best blues and jazz the future would some day canonize.  _

_A particular love of Bessie Smith drew me to one building.  I’ve always loved the women’s fashion of this time for what it did not do, particularly on shapely women.  The flapper mystique was unabashedly male, meant to hide those wonderful curves that make the women of so many species just fabulous.   But on some females the more you hide, the more you reveal.  And leaning just inside the door at the top of the stairs, was the perfect example of that.  My taps rapping subtly against the uneven wooden stairs, announced me once there was a break in the music.  She was laughing boisterously at a joke offered by a man leaning on the other side of the opening.  But, my shoes broke her concentration and she looked at me.  She glanced up and down at me, only to turn back to her conversation._

_It was one of many rejections I would receive from Kyla._

The soap was soothing against Jack’s cock and balls.  The heat and the pressure from the water kept the same cadence as his taps moving up the tenement steps.  It was all so incredible soothing.   Remembering Kyla shifting her hips side to side to the music, he moved the lather in long, exaggerated strokes along his shaft ending with a brief extra squeeze at his tip.  As he got more erect, he used his left hand to cup his scrotum, moving his testicles elongated rolls like Bruce Lee’s Chinese balance balls.  Jack remembered reaching the top of the steps and he could see her face clearly now – his right hand shifted to short jerks from just below his head.  Like a scene in a 40s Hollywood drama, she turned and faced him smiling alluringly like Lauren Bacall at Humphrey Bogart.  His dick swelled, his thighs shook and his ass clinched.   She said “hello handsome” and he let his head drop back.  His jism shot forcefully against the shower water, like salmon swimming upstream in a hailstorm.  He barely contained his groans and wondered if she noticed his gapping mouth.  But when all was done and the shuddering ended, Jack felt no relief.  Kyla was smiling at another man. 

*******

Back at her comfortable museum offices, Kyla remembered meeting the puckish Jack Harkness.  She put down her pen as she was reviewing the sketches outlining her next exhibition then looked out the window whimsically. 

_She heard him stop midway up the steps but she smelled him before that.  Humanoids, no matter their planetary origin, have distinctive odors.    She couldn’t quite place his home world but she could identify the intent – ravish.  “Mmm,” she remembered thinking, “he’s a quick one” as she realized the only thing he could have fashioned from his visual perspective was her hair and ass._

_He conducted a semi-circle around her space, looking over his shoulder as his bouncy blue eyes raked her up then down obviously noted each curve and contour of her dishabille white beaded flapper apparel.  She was talking to the party’s host – a dark skinned Earth male – who was promising to “show Ms. Sweet Taffy how things are done in Harlem”.  Initially, Kyla had found his self-aggrandizing prattle amusing and his weed tasty.  But Jack’s arrival had shifted her curiosity.  This biped was different.  She made faint apologies and escaped what her host misidentified as a captivate stance._

_When she arrived at the table stuffed with southern American treats – assorted thickly sliced meats, white bread, potato salad, cole slaw, and rot-gut punch with enough alcohol to put an elephant in the drunk cell at the local precinct.  “Ah, what a pity,” said Jack over his shoulder, “no pizza.”_

_“Wrong side of town,” she responded, “or wrong decade.”_

_Jack turned around and considered her intently, “Captain Jack Harkness!”  He leaned back slightly, anticipating that she would want to appreciate him more fully._

_She did look at him up and down but seemed only mildly impressed, “You’re not from these parts?”_

_“I work across the pond.”_

_“Bullshit,” she laughed.  “You’re from farther away than some continent.”_

_Jack’s eyebrows furrowed and he offered one of his classic sidelong glances.  “I can’t imagine what you mean,” he said definitively._

_“Have it your way,” she shrugged.  “You’re either an alien on holiday or you work for Torchwood.”_

_He gave a quick smile hoping to distract her, “And what brings you here tonight?”_

_“Looking for an interesting night.”  She put a small amount of potato salad in a bowl and grabbed a spoon.  She lifted a spoontip’s worth of the creamy delight to her lips and gave him a girlish gleam before licking it off.   Music changed to a blues grind and the tipsy folk around them started to pair off to demonstrate on the dance floor what could happen in the bedroom.  “Wanna dance?”_

_Jack look was riven with overconfident lust as he put her food on the table and moved them to join the other sexually hopeful dancing couples.  This particular rent party wasn’t one of the usual cheap spots – it had a genuine Vitanola record player offering Jelly Roll Morton’s popular “Black Bottom Stomp”.  The room cleared while folks whooped and hollered at the “white boy moving that gal around” in the style that was the funky precursor to the Charleston.  Kyla’s breasts bounced beneath her dress, unhindered by corset or convention.  Her hair, that she kept unstylishly well below her shoulders, swung at half pace as if indicating a subtler tawdry song._

_A few pulls from some intoxicating substance and a good round of dancing usually was enough to get Jack an invitation.  So when Kyla said, “It’s raining outside.  Let’s go for a walk” he assumed it was to her apartment.  Instead they walked for hours talking about everything from potential ramification of the Treaty of Berlin (both agreed there would be another large scale war), to the sudden death of Rudolph Valentino (both felt it was a sad loss of human flesh), through DeFord Bailey performing at Nashville's Grand Ole Opry (both believed that there was no redemption nor recovery from the collective memory of a slavery so woven within a society’s fabric, a Black man playing at a traditionally White venue in the heart of the south be damned).  Jack was charmed by their conversation and considered that this was more than some run-of-the-mill sexual conquest.  Additionally, he wondered where her “Torchwood” reference came from but wanted to wait until she raised it again._

But she didn’t raise it again because by their third date, Kyla already knew all about him and that things would go no further.  She sighed, about to return to her drawings, also recalling what happened after she harshly broke things off.  “Not that Jack Harkness isn’t charming,” she later justified to Aliyah and several envious female and male Torchwood Jerusalem agents.  “We do share the similar ‘passports’ . . . It’s just, he so physically deficient!”

******************

Chapter 7

While Jack was playing with his balls, Ianto was investigating the cherub and Kyla. 

According to the newspapers, the Turner painting came from Sudeley Castle, near Winchcombe in Gloucestershire.  Sudeley Castle was steeped in English history and royal connections.   Thomas Boteler was one of the first owners.  He was a successful admiral who served under Henry V and Henry VI in the wars against France.   He financed the most extensive work on the estate, including the adjoining church, the Banqueting Hall, and Portmare Tower, said to be named after a captured French Admiral whose ransom money paid for the tower's construction.  “Unfortunately,” read Ianto, “Boteler was forced to sell Sudeley to Edward IV when that Yorkist monarch ascended the throne. In 1469 Edward granted Sudeley to his brother Richard, Duke of Gloucester (later Richard III).  Richard later traded Sudeley back to the king in exchange for Richmond Castle, the castle was later owned by Jasper Tudor before reverting to the crown.  Henry VIII seems to have neglected Sudeley, though he did visit here in 1532 with Anne Boleyn.” 

As usual, Ianto was getting himself lost in the details and had to pull himself back to the matter at hand.  He scrolled further down in on the computer screen and learned that the current owners, Lord and Lady Ashcombe, sold a number of the castle’s treasures in the past few years to pay for critical renovations to the crumbling estate, of which the painting was just the most famous.  Ianto hacked through Lady Ashcombe’s emails during the time of the sale and found a number notations, to both the estate manager and her best friend, Lady Thumberland, about a “nasty little statue” that she wanted to rid herself of because it “gave her the creeps”. 

“Ianto,” Jacked called from the shower, “come scrub my back!”

“Right,” Ianto returned.  But as he was about to abandon his investigation, something caught his eye.  Torchwood archives on the castle mention that the original master of the castle, Ralph de Sudeley, was a leader of the Knights Templar – who saw one of their roles in the crusades to rescue holy relics from the grasp of the heathen Arabs.   

“Ianto!  I’m turning into a prune in here.”

One of the relics most sought after by the Knights was the Ark of the Covenant - the container that held the original Ten Commandments.  Next to the Holy Grail, the ark was most famous biblical relic of all time. “Coming!”  Ianto said while finishing a description of the ark’s design.  Then, a big smile came on his face.

By the time he reached the bathroom, Ianto had loosed his clothes.  He knew what Jack wanted because he knew why Jack was in there for so long.  He pushed aside the shower door, reached in and gently stroked Jack’s newly shaved balls.  “Ooh,” Jack gasped, shivering at the tenderness of the thin skin and sensitive nerve endings. 

Ianto grinned slyly as he knew what Jack liked. “Now,” he tugged just a little and got a satisfying yelp from his lover, “Is _this_ what you’ve been doing instead of getting ready for the party?” 

Jack shivered again before reopening his eyes, which were a rich, hungry blue.  He turned slightly, switched off the shower water and got out.  His sudden movement caught Ianto off guard.  It wasn’t until Jack was on his knees and loosing Ianto’s dick from his pants that Ianto realized the full direction things were going.  “We are to leave for the party in a few hours,” he said, doing little to push Jack away.  “Considering,” his right hand rested on top of Jack’s head, “Considering I am expected to contribute to Sarah’s reproductive history,” now it was getting harder to talk coherently, “shouldn’t we postpone this?”

Jack firmly stroked Ianto’s cock. “Most men your age can ejaculate for at least several times a day with the first and second ejaculations containing nearly the same about of sperm.”  He slowly rolled his tongue across the tip, then looked up and waited for Ianto to look at him.  “Anyway, I’ll give you time to rest up before we go.”

“Mmm, how generous,” Ianto nodded, resting his body against the wall.  Jack liked it when Ianto watched him and Ianto loved the feel of his cock rolling slowly down Jack’s throat.  Most people who knew them probably wouldn’t have anticipated Jack in this position, believing such would be too subservient for Captain Harkness.  But Jack always said the best place for control was in the cockpit, driving the machine not riding in it.  So over the centuries, he mastered all types of joysticks, some well hung while others hidden behind a labia hood.  The one he was conquering now was causing its owner’s legs to buckle.  It was all about taking the time to find the right spot and his partner had plenty of them to choose from.  “Fuck,” was about all Ianto could get out before he spewed cum and his thighs quivered until he could barely remain standing.  When Ianto’s shaking finally stopped, Jack stood up, offering a brash smile.  Ianto, shyly looked away, still not always quite at ease with his how readily he responded to this alien with remarkable sexual skills.  

Jack let out a laugh (as he enjoyed making Ianto blush) and kissed him fully on the mouth, leaving the aftertaste of Ianto’s own cum within his mouth.  “Come lay on the bed with me,” Jack left the bathroom and popped himself on the bed.  “What did you learn in your research?” 

Ianto, half walking, half stumbling, came to bed and sat at the edge.  He cleared his throat, imitating a professional tone, “There is a possibility that the cherub is one of the twins attached to the Ark of the Covenant.”  

“Interesting,” Jack turned to his side, resting his head on his elbow pretending that he didn’t notice the reoccurring reaction from Ianto to his nakedness in the afternoon light.  “How would the ark have gotten to Europe?”

Ianto realized that Jack was yanking his chain and decided to ignore him.  He got up and walked back to the laptop on the nearby desk.  “There was a legend that Lord Sudeley, while on crusade in the Holy Land, raided Maccabean treasure hidden on the Mount Sinai in the Valley of Edom.  One of the treasures Sudeley allegedly brought back to his castle was the famous Ark of the Covenant.”  He scrolled down further, “According to biblical historian, Graham Phillips’ theory, it remained there at Sudeley Castle until the 1180s, when Ralph de Sudeley died suddenly and bequeath the ark to the Templars at the Herdewyke Preceptory in Warwickshire.  Unfortunately, when the last of the Knights died in the 1350 wave of the Black Death that and other relics they were alleged to have in their possession mysteriously disappeared.”

“How would the cherub been separated from the ark itself?”

“Not sure but I think we should bring this information to Aliyah.  See what she can make of it.”

“Agreed.”  Deciding he might as well drop the idea of further sexual entertainment for the moment, Jack switched subjects.  “So, what did you find out about me and Kyla?”

Ianto closed the computer, “I hadn’t a chance to get to that yet.”  He turned in his chair and looked at Jack squarely, “I’d much prefer it if you would just tell me yourself.”

Jack sighed, figuring that he could no longer continue avoiding the topic.  “We met when I was between assignments in New York, 1926.”  He decided he was cold, so got under the bedcovers.  “We dated for nearly three months before I even knew her connection to Aliyah and the Time Agency,” he said, rubbing his forehead.  “She was before my time.”

“Kyla’s from your planet?”

“No, Aliyah’s, Jerushan Prime.  She’s a _Reciprocus_ or immortal, like Aliyah – one of the few people of their race who retain large amounts of their alien ancestor’s genetic make up.”

“If I remember Aliyah correctly, her people were the decedents of Jews who chose not to enter the Promise Land but returned to Egypt and went with the aliens who had landed there back to their home world.”

“Yes, the two groups intermarried almost immediately and the original people’s immortal capability quickly became a recessive gene in their now bi-racial offspring.”

Ianto thought a moment before asking the next question. “It was several months before you . . . before you two got to know each other then?”

Jack shook his head, “You have to understand Ianto, I was a different man back then.”  He crossed his hands behind his head and leaned back.  “I wanted to be married again.  I liked being married but things were just too damn complicated with human females.  And, well, even Harlem was not like the San Francisco of the 70s.”  He opened his eyes, looking around for something to quench his thrust.  Ianto poured him a glass of water and brought it to him.  After taking a sip, Jack continued, “I thought this was perfect.  Here was an absolutely beautiful woman I could literally spend the rest of my life with and we both worked for Torchwood!”

“Like me and Lisa.”

“Yes.”  Ianto sat again on the edge of the bed and Jack grasped his forearm reassuringly.  “Exactly.”  He took another sip. “She was worth waiting for,” he said wistfully.

“Jack Harkness playing the role of the chivalrous suitor?  Something I find hard to believe.”

“Well, believe it honey because it was true and it wasn’t easy either!”

“So, what happened?”

“We set a date, got a preacher through Torchwood London, and tickets to beaches of Havana,” he paused but Ianto wasn’t certain if this was for dramatic effect or out whimsical reminiscing.  “She never showed.”

“Left at the alter?”

“Yep.  She sent a note to me through Aliyah saying that I ‘didn’t have everything she wanted’.”   

“Really?” Ianto now thought the woman was quite mad.

“Really.  According to Aliyah, she married someone else less than a year later.”

Ianto’s researcher’s mind started turning, “Do you know who?”

“No, I never looked.  Aliyah said the whole affair was off this world, as by that point Kyla had resigned from Torchwood and I was assigned to a major, long term project.”

Ianto thought to say or do something reassuring as Jack’s tone had started to become embittered.  Clearly this was still a rather fresh wound for him.  Ianto turned to face Jack more fully but Jack shifted stiffly in the bed, sinking slightly under the covers.  He had said as much as he was going to and Ianto knew not to press further.  “Mmm, maybe I should go shave too.”  He got off the bed and headed to the bathroom.  “Wouldn’t want us going to an orgy mismatched, eh?” he said trying to lighten the mood.

Jack simply grunted and turned his back.

********

Chapter 8

Ianto was perfectly content to let Jack drive to Ms. Palagia’s event.  Where normal London traffic is crazy, New York traffic on a Saturday night is insane.  Jack was in the mood for some road rage and Ianto had long ago learned just to leave him to it.  Aliyah and Sarah were strapped like astronauts in the back seats, clenching the SUV’s overhead bars like a suicide who has changed his mind. As Ianto’s thoughts drifted as he stared through the passenger window at the studded lights flashing through left over raindrops. And Jack swerved and jolted the car like a Hot Wheel Corvette on a kid’s racing set.  While New York drifted past at stop and go speed like a transplanted episode of Miami Vice on meth. Steve Winwood’s “Don’t You Know What the Night Can Do” played on the iPod, drifting in and out of Ianto’s consciousness, peppering his thoughts.

_Feel the night music playing_

_Don’t you know what it’s saying_

_We should feel it together . . . forever_

_Feel the beat and just hold on_

_To the sweet midnight flowing_

_Feel the music inside you_

_I will be there too_

 

“Idiot!” shouted Jack just a little louder than Ianto anticipated.  “Did you see that?  Who gives these folks licenses?”

“Precisely,” was Ianto’s banal response, which allowed him to easily return to his thoughts like a sleeper returning to an enticing dream.

He never spoke much to Jack about his attractions to women, sometimes thinking he was clinging to it out of some internalized homophobia or similar mental health condition.  And the more he was with Jack - the more he took care of him - the more he became accustomed to being in this sort of clearly undefined, unsettled relationship – the more Ianto wondered where things were going.  “There,” he thought just a little too loud, “Yes that’s it..”

“What?” Jack asked.

“Nothing!” Ianto responded with a mildly irritated tone.  He went on silently, “Yeah, I love him but not like I’m going to tell him that!  But what does that mean?  What does it mean to love someone who so easily let you fuck someone else because ‘it’s good for you’?  Sounds like a bloody breakfast cereal!”

_Now's the time our dreams are_

_finally coming true_

_Feels so good we're crying_

_Now's the time when it's down to me and you_

_Spread these wings-we'll be flying_

 

Aliyah must have noticed his sideline looks at Sarah during Jack and Ianto’s visits to Torchwood Cardiff.  He usually didn’t like Amazon women like that, preferring those who’s physically slight, sweet temperament matched his reserved nature.  But many of his preferences had changed over these last few years.  Maybe that’s because, unlike his sister, he escaped home.  Maybe it’s from working at Torchwood.  Maybe it’s from fucking Jack. 

_Don't you know what the night can do?_

_Don't you know when it's touching you?_

_Don't you know what the night can do?_

 

This wasn’t just about having another creature running around wearing miniature Amani suits.  He needed to be honest at last with himself.  Ianto wanted to have a taste of that thick, muscular woman – tear away that harsh ponytail she always wears and watch the blonde curls bounce around hefty breasts as her nipples peeked out from behind.  Naked on a plush, oversize chair moving her hips up and down covering his dick with thick pussy juices and grinding in relentless rhythm was the vision that arose the moment Aliyah asked for his help.  The idea that they would all go to the swinger’s party helped to harden his determination.  If Aliyah saw his daydream, as she was something of a telepath, she said nothing while they negotiated the partner swap the other day like a Wall Street trade.  Ianto bit his thumbnail – a habit he picked up in school and a dead giveaway noting uncertainty or anticipation and this case both.  He sneaked a peek through the rearview mirror.  Sarah caught him and flashed an uncharacteristic nervous grin.  He looked away quickly like a boy on the play yard, returned back to Jack’s chatter.

“Hey, moron!” Jack shouted out the window at a taxi driver, “They drive better in downtown Cairo!”  The taxi driver gave him the finger and Jack stuck out his tongue.

“Really, Jack?” sighed Aliyah.  “I spent a lot of time on this costume and would like to get there with most of it and my body parts intact, if you please.”  She readjusted her clothes, “I take longer to regenerate than you do, ya know!”

“Yeah, yeah, keep you’re hat on!” returned Jack.  “We’ll . . . be there in . . . just a . . . minute.”  He swerved the behemouth in a tight semicircle directly in front of an irate Toyota Camry as he smartly swerved then landing in a tight space between a Hummer and a four door Lexus.  “What can I say?” he bragged.  “Was that sweet or what?”

The group stormed the half block walk to the Manhattan loft like confident geeks going to a Star Trek convention.  They were certainly dressed the part.  The party’s theme was a sci-fi.  Aliyah was Guinan and Sarah was Seven-of-Nine.  Predictably, Ianto was the Spock to Jack’s Captain James T. Kirk - the younger, 2009 version.  And as the group entered the building, after flashing the coveted invitation card at an over eager security guard, he keyed them into the nonstop elevator, opening its doors at a penthouse with wall to ceiling 12 foot windows.  The shiny hardwood floors made a sharp clicking sound underneath the ladies’ shoes, barely heard past beats of Rhianna’s “S&M”. 

_Feels so good being bad_

_There's no way I'm turning back_

_Now the pain is for pleasure, 'cause nothing can measure_

_Love is great, love is fine_

_Out the box, out of line_

_The affliction of the feeling leaves me wanting more._

The room was already packed with people, from Chewbacca to the Jon Pertwee Doctor Who – from Buffy to Captain Janeway.  Most were eating, dancing or talking in a corner, looking like U.N. diplomats jockeying over some mid-east declaration.  The air smelled like a Gordon Ramsey restaurant and the bar was stocked with nothing less than top shelf.  To look around, you’d think this was any other party at the Hamptons or Devon except for the G-string clad waitresses offering Jello shots off their tits and the absent-minded male dancer in a too small Speedo, stroking his extra-large bulge against the bars of an elevated cage.

_'Cause I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it_

_Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it_

_Sticks and stones may break my bones,_

_But chains and whips excite me._

 

“Jack Harkness!  As I live and breathe!!” A heavy set older but strikingly attractive brunette in a 60’s Lost in Space beehive walked stealthy toward him.  She grabbed and hugged him tightly.   She then held him at arm’s length and looked him up and down, “Damn!  You haven’t aged a day since I last saw you.”  She gave him a sidelong glance, “The last time I saw you was sometime in the ‘80s?”

“It’s just good genes, Madame Palagia,” Jack assured.  “Anyway, you’re not looking so bad yourself,” he said just as he put a well-placed kiss near her ear.  “Will you save me a ‘dance’ for later?”

She slapped his arm like a flirtatious debutante, “Do you have to ask?”  She turned to Ianto, “And who is this yummy creature?”

Ianto nodded slightly, “Ianto Jones, ma’am, at your service.”

“I bet you could be,” the experienced woman grinned as she allowed Ianto kiss her hand.  She turned then to Aliyah.  “I should have known you’d dress like clergy dispensing holy water, Rabbi,” Madame Palagia said while glumping the significantly shorter woman. “Though Sarah, what an apt costume.”  Sarah nodded in acknowledgement.  Palagia leaned into Aliyah’s ear. “The rooms you requested are ready and waiting for you, when you’re ready,” she whispered.

“Your attention to detail is comprehensive, as usual Madame,” Aliyah said bowing slightly. 

“Of course, darling!” she said taking a champagne flute offered from the serving tray of a semi-naked woman.  “The best only offers the best!”  She took a large sip when something by the elevator door caught her eye, “Ah darlings, I’m going to have to leave you now – a sport’s star just came in and they are always getting into some sort of trouble!”  Unobtrusively, she passed two small keys to Aliyah, “Get some food and drink before you head off – it will help you last longer and this bar bill is just killing me.  Damn, I really wish people would go back to coke, it would be so much cheaper.”  She pranced off but not before patting Jack’s ass.  “Kobie sweetie!  How are you?”

Everyone but Aliyah began to look around room, wondering where to start.  In the time they spoke to Madame Palagia, the mood in the room had already started to shift.  On the supple couches, love seats and extra wide chairs sat couples, triples, and foursomes in various stages of undress and foreplay.  The costumes made it difficult to determine gender in many cases but to the participants, it hardly seemed to matter.  Magically, the lights dimmed.  The music became less hip-hop/house and more neo-Soul.  Ianto turned to say something to Jack only to discover he was nowhere in sight as neither was Aliyah.  Sarah and he stood looking foolishly at each other. 

_Mmm, this morning my man exclusively introduced me_

_To some good extra lovin'_

_He was lickin' and suckin' on everything_

_Just the way he should_

 

“What did you do with the ‘baby’?” asked Ianto awkwardly.

“Hotel babysitting,” Sarah responded with equal nervousness. “It figures,” Sarah groaned, noting Aliyah was already chatting up some trannie girl in a Harry Potter glasses at the bar.  “She’s probably using some Talmudic quotes about ‘Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old’.”

“Yeah, Jack has disappeared too, as usual,” replied Ianto.  “Wait, that works?”

“For a rabbi, I guess.”

_This morning's extra lovin' was good_

_We laid there sweaty, sex funky, happy as we want to be_

_Lovin' exclusively, my man and me_

 

The absurdity of the situation caught up with Sarah particularly once words of Jill Scott’s “Exclusively” reached her.  “Aliyah left us a room key.  Why don’t we move there as the middle of the dance floor is getting a bit crowded.”

Next to him, a harness had lowered from the ceiling and a slightly intoxicated woman in nondescript pink hair was having a difficult time allowing her partners to help her in it.  Her oversize silicone and flaying ballerina arms kept hitting Ianto in the back of his head.  “That may be the safest course of action at the moment,” he said with a combination of relief and anticipation.

Meanwhile, Jack wandered down the long hallway opening doors, looking for new trouble.  The last door on the right offered trouble he had waited decades for.  Decked in green body paint, hair puffed in the overblown, 60s updo looking ever like Gaila, an Orion female from first Star Trek series – was Kyla. 

“Hello, Captain.”

**********

Chapter 9

The balcony was the safest spot as everywhere else had dildos and edible panties.  “I guess this isn’t happening.”

“No, I guess not.  Disappointed?”

“A little.  You?”

Ianto turned toward the damp, open sky onto the New York City lights flash like so many twinkling Christmas lights.  He leaned on the railing with his elbows and inhaled deeply.  “Probably more than I am willing to admit.” 

Sarah grinned at herself and leaned back on the railing, watching the ongoing orgy through the balcony’s glass doors.  “I thought you were gay.”

“No, just with Jack.”

“Unusual.”

“Quite.”

“So, why?”

Ianto flashed back to Lisa’s death and the strange dance that started between him and Jack.  “He chose me and I couldn’t come up with a good reason to stop saying yes.”

“Really? I could.”

“You’re gay.”

“In most ways.” She thought a minute, “I think you’re cute though.”

Ianto blushed but kept staring straight at the skyline, “So what about having a baby?”

“What do you mean?”  She did some mental calculations and realized that he was out of the loop, “Aliyah and I are going to raise Erela.”

“The child is a cherub, it’s not like she’s going to grow up and ask for keys to the car.”

“She’s grown genitalia,” responded Sarah, “and the wings fell off before we left the room tonight.”

“She’s transitioned to a human baby?  Fascinating.”

“Aliyah can explain it,” confirmed Sarah.  “I don’t claim to understand all her biblical-archeology-alien stuff but I do know that I changed a diaper this evening.”  She took a sip of her gin and tonic through a thin straw.

Suddenly, Ianto admitted to himself the real reason he was there tonight.  He swiped the drink from Sarah’s hands, downed what was remaining, and put the glass on a nearby table.  With Earth, Wind, and Fire’s “The Way of the World” offering a swaying beat in the background, he took her closely in his arms, his cheek gently brushing against hers.  Thanking his mother for pre-teen dance lessons every Saturday, Ianto Jones move with surprising easy and lightness.  Sarah, unused to any male contact, had to admit she was enjoying the tenderness of the moment.  Her jasmine perfume was enchanting, leading him to summon the hubris to pull her even closer.

Hearts of fire creates love desire

Take you high and higher to the world you belong

Hearts of fire creates love desire

High and higher to your place on the throne

They parted slightly and looked at each other, eyes asking if the next move would be okay.  They kissed passionately. 

You will find peace of mind

If you look way down in your heart and soul

Don’t hesitate ‘cause the world seems cold

Stay young at heart ‘cause you’re never (never, never, ..) old at heart

Then, as suddenly as it started, Sarah stopped, fell backwards, mumbling excuses and apologies as if she crossed some imaginary line she didn’t know how to come back from.

That’s the way of the world

Plant your flower and you grow a pearl

A child is born with a heart of gold

The way of the world makes his heart grow cold

“What will Aliyah say?” he challenged, with slick, confident smile on his face.

She straightened her Federation uniform as if doing so would wipe away her guilty conscious. “Nothing, cuz nothing’s happened.” Sarah folded her arms across her chest, “Jack is with Kyla.  Concerned?”

Ianto was not distracted by her harsh remark.  Her flush face meant she was interested and he was interested in finishing what just started. “Hardly.”  He rather easily pulled her arms apart and put them around his neck, which lifted Sarah tight against him.  His darkened eyes and her pelvis against his hard-on both scared and intrigued her.  He nibbled her ear then said, “I put an insurance policy in his pocket.”

**************

Only in the world of Torchwood is a green woman in a skimpy teddy on a round bed the hottest thing in the universe.  He momentarily forgot she practically left him at the altar.

“I’m not sure I want to get all that make-up on my fresh uniform,” remarked a cocky Jack Harkness.  “I’m sure such would violate some Federation code of conduct.”

“Why I didn’t know you were a man concerned about decorum?”  She got up on all fours, her breasts dangling like the perfect fruit just begging to be picked. 

They met at edge of the bed, her face at his waist level.  She looked up at him like the new girl in the harem.  Jack became irritated. “Don’t play.”

“I had no intention of playing,” she was suddenly serious.  “I thought this was what you wanted.”

In a typical dramatic fashion, Jack plopped himself on the bed next to her.  Kyla sat up.  “So why now?  All those times I was . . . .”

“A complete gentleman,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulder.  “I shouldn’t have left you that night . . . .”

“Standing in the rain at that tiny airport in Kansas, waiting for my fiancé who never arrived!”  Jack started to continue but realized something was pinching his thigh.  He dug in a pocket he didn’t realize he had in the costume.  Did James T. Kirk need pockets?  He pulled out the offending object and found it was a picture. 

Kyla snatched it from his hands, “Oh my g-d!  Where did you find a photo of me and Horace?”

“Who?”

“Horace.  Horace Strossman.  My former husband!”

“Another you left off somewhere, I suppose.”

“No you jealous fool.  This is who I abandoned you for,” she said handing the picture back to Jack.

The shock crept over Jack’s face like a tsunami after an earthquake. The picture showed Kyla in a lovely white traditional wedding dress. She was clearly in some underwater biosphere and floating next to her was a creature who resembled some sort of jellyfish. Jack had encountered many species and seen many cross-species relationships but this was way out of his imagination.  “What the hell, Kyla.”

She snatched back the picture like a pouting teenage girl, “That’s my husband you’re talking about!”  She looked at the picture again, “Well, maybe it’s him or one of his brothers.  I’m not sure.  The tradition amongst the Cubozoa is that a foreign female must marry and mate with all the males in the family to increase the chances of off-spring.”

The creature floating next to Kyla was pale blue and transparent in color and with a body shaped like a cube, with 15 tentacles extending from each corner and 10 feet long.  It had eyes grouped in clusters of six on the four sides.  “Each tentacle has about 5,000 stinging cells,” Kyla said with a gleeful twinkle, “which are triggered not by touch but by the presence of a chemical on the outer layer of its prey.”  She closed her eyes and touch her breasts, “Those tentacles wrap around you and your body goes on fire.  Amazing rolling organisms, over and over again.  You gotta try it Jack!”

“You fucked a sea wasp?”  Jack was loud and angry.  “You mean to tell me you left me at that lonely airport in the middle of nowhere so you could marry a jellyfish!”

“Jack, you gotta understand.  He’d touch me everywhere and all at the same time.  There is nothing like it.”  She realized that this was not working, “I’m sorry but I was dating him before I met you.  I was a coward.  I couldn’t tell you that what you had to offer wasn’t going to satisfy.” 

Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  Was someone actually saying they did not find him sexually attractive? 

“So, what was this going to be?"

"I believe on this planet it is referred to as a 'pity fuck'".

They sat there in chilled silence for some time, each staring away from the other.  Feeling like a heel, she added, “I just don’t know how you got that photo.  It’s has to be at least 50 years old.”

Jack took the photo back from her, turned it over and saw the words “Torchwood Institute” watermarked across the back.  “I have a pretty good idea.”

************

Chapter 10

When Ianto first entered their hotel room, he didn’t see Jack.  He had stormed out of the party without a word, Kyla coming up the rear sometime later, head down and crying.  Sarah and Aliyah untangled themselves from the orgy of the moment and came to her aid.  Ianto decide to find his own way back to the hotel.  He reckoned some extra time would give Jack a chance to calm down.

From the bathroom, a bellowing American accent called out, “Ianto, I think I’m getting another gray hair.”

Ianto pulled the Starfleet uniform shirt over his head sardonically.  “Mmm,” was all he said.

Jack sauntered in toward Ianto, still dressed from the party.  He had an apologetic look but was not about to beg forgiveness.  “How is it that you always know what’s right for me?”

Ianto walked around Jack to note the half empty bottle of hypervodka.  He exhaled deeply then turned to pass Jack again.  “Considering your age,” Ianto responded, “I don’t know how you don’t.”  He wasn’t going to let Jack get away with a “peck and a dozen roses” sorry.  Just like Dirty Harry Callahan said, “A man’s got to know his limitations.”

Jack hated when Ianto was right – he could be so smug. “How was I to know she was into octopods?” Jack pleaded to Ianto’s backside. Ianto had gone in the bathroom but didn’t close the door.  Jack could hear him relieve himself and methodically brush his teeth, like pre-teen girls brush their hair – exactly 25 strokes both ways in all for quadrants with three precise, 15 second mouthwash rinses.   Jack’s voice cracked when he added, “Really, Ianto! Stop sulking.”  He lowered his voice, “What do you want me to say?”

A moment more and Ianto came out of the bathroom.  He walked to the wall opposite of where Jack was standing and dimmed the room’s lights.  “Come to bed.  We have an early breakfast tomorrow,” he said while lighting two candles.

“I thought you impregnated Sarah tonight,” which came out more pissy than Jack had anticipated.

Ianto ignored the tone, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Jack shrugged and took off his shoes.  Pensively, he wondered quietly how someone so OCD and meticulous managed to be so marvelously delicious.  But as Ianto got under the covers on one side and pulled aside the other end for him, Jack decided the answer didn’t really matter.  As odd as their relationship was, somehow it made sense and worked for them both.  With Ianto sitting up against the headboard, Jack sank down into the covers, eventually resting his head on Ianto’s lap.  Ianto flipped on the telly and absent-mindedly moved through the channels to find the perfect background effect.  He finally settled on a 1930s romantic comedy.  A slight grin stretched over his face as he decided to stretch out Jack’s punishment just a little longer.

“What are you watching?” asked Jack.

“’My Man Godfrey’,” he said.  “Ditzy socialite Carole Lombard finds a homeless man William Powell as part of a scavenger hunt but then decides to rescue him by hiring him as a butler to her screwball family.”

“I know,” Jack said between two yawns.  He cuddled closer into Ianto’s lap.  “Powell was still in love with her when he made that flick.  I don’t know who cried more, him or Gable, when she died.”

Ianto looked down at Jack, smiled lovingly, and began rubbing his hair like a mother comforting a tired child.  It was going to be one of those rare times that Jack actually slept.  Every time it happened, Ianto encouraged it, knowing how it helped Jack’s recovery whenever he was hurt or killed.  He pulled the covers up over Jack’s shoulders but before he could completely settle him, Jack asked, “What about that baby-thing?”

“The cherub has transformed into a child,” he answered.  “Sarah and Aliyah are quite pleased.”  He paused, “A funny time to ask, eh?  You’re usually atop of the alien activities.”

“I’ve been distracted,” Jack said gruffly.  He rapped one arm around Ianto’s thigh, getting a good whiff of his lover’s crotch.  Satisfied, he said, “Plus, it didn’t come from the rift.  It’s an Earth anomaly not an alien.”

“Aliyah’s theory is the child is lonely for its fellow cherub also attached to the ark.  Without it, she is lonely and easily responded to Sarah’s affection which likely triggered the transformation.”

“Wonder where the other cherub went.”

“Don’t know but I’m not sure the girls want a set of astro-twins.”

“Probably not,” Jack chuckled.  He thought further, then sat up to look into Ianto’s eyes, “Sorry.”

“About what?”

“You’re not going to be a daddy.”

Ianto thought he saw Jack’s blue eyes twinkle – he was just so cute!  “I’m young.  There is still time.”  He kissed Jack’s cheek playfully.  “Didn’t you tell me about a planet where the men carry the baby through a retrofitted device of some kind?”

“Ah yeah, Dijete Tata.  The technology allows them to even breast feed.”

Teasingly, Ianto looked Jack up and down.  “I’ll rub your feet every night.”

Jack groaned then pulled Ianto on top of him.  “Well, we better get started.  Neither of us is getting any younger.”

Ianto liked the idea.


End file.
